Hetalia Fairytales
by Aprilshowermayflowers
Summary: All of your favourite fairytales mixed with all of your favourite nations (and by extension your favourite ships). Each chapter is a scene from the story with a Hetalia twist. Bad summary is bad but still consider reading. Contains DenNor, PruCan, RusAme, Giripan, LietPol, FrUk, AmeCan, RoChu and more to come.
1. Nordic and DenNor Frozen

_(Author's note- Thanks for clicking on my story. Until inspiration strikes me for my Avengers one, I decided to write down the one shots my brain created at three am. This is just kinda something I'm doing in my free time, so don't expect really consistent uploads. Also each story is just a snippet of my favourite scene but if you wanna make anything into a full story, please PM me because that would be so cool. I've ranted enough. Enjoy!)_

 _(Author's note 2- A guest has pointed out to me that this story may have some copyright problems so I am changing the name of the title and some of the content. Also just to be clear, I do not own Hetalia or Frozen. This is just a parody based on those stories. All rights go to Hideka Himaruya and Disney. Thank you to the guest that reviewed and informed me of this mistake)_

 **Frozen**

 **Mathias (Denmark)=Anna**

 **Lukas (Norway)=Kristoff**

 **Berwald (Sweden)=Elsa (Him and Mathias are half-brothers. I really like the relationship these two have and it's not explored enough)**

 **Tino (Finland)=Prince Hans (But not evil. They kissed but it didn't work because they weren't truly in love. Mathias asked him to go tell Berwald about his death because he thought he was a lost cause)**

 **Emil (Iceland)=Olaf (He's a castle servant that helped out Mathias after he went after Berwald)**

 **Alfred (America)=The Duke of Weselton (Someone has to be evil in every story, he just happens to be the villain in this one, don't worry, we eventually get some Al love)**

Mathias' entire world had become consumed by the cold. He was not really feeling the sensation of cold though. No, it was more like his very core was slowly being eaten by a white, bitter nothingness. Cold came from the outside, and whatever was wrong with him was an infection rooted deep within. Each step forward was fighting against the urge his body had to freeze up, to lie down and never move again.

He glanced down at his fingers, which were so numb he was barely convinced they were still there. It was a struggle to stop shivering long enough to see, and even more of a struggle to clear his pain-laced, foggy mind and actually focus on them. For a second he was panicked at the apparent frostbite that was dusting his fingertips. Why else would they be turning blue? That panic was multiplied by tenfold when he realized what was really wrong with his fingers. They were turning to ice.

A sense of dread washed over him, the fear of his own oblivion choking his thoughts. Mathias wanted to scream, cry, laugh at the irony of his inevitable fate. But all he could truly do was stand in the middle of the frozen wasteland as he waited for death.

A whisper echoed over the port, so faint and teasingly hopeful Mathias was convinced it was a dream, his minds last ditch attempt at a peaceful end. Yet it was there again. And again.

"Mathias! Mathias!"

The Danish man looked up, even that simple movement a struggle against his stiffening body. The purple-clad figure running towards him in the distance was blurred by snow and his failing mind, and somehow he was clearer than he had ever been. Mathias was sure he would have been crying if all the moisture in his eyes had not been turned to ice long ago. The gasped name that escaped his throat was louder than the roaring storm swirling around them.

"Lukas."

Almost on its own accord, Mathias stepped towards the approaching man, who he was now convinced beyond all doubt loved him. So badly did he want to run forward, to kiss Lukas and never let go, to live beyond the frozen tomb that had now spread up his hands and was picking up speed.

But he couldn't. Because in the corner of his vision he saw Berwald kneeling on the ground sobbing, heartbroken and prone to attack after Tino had told him that his brother had died. And Mathias knew that up in the tower the Duke of America was sitting with his crossbow out, ready to kill the "monster" and be the hero. By then Lukas was seconds away. But it was seconds too late. Looking one last time at the sorcerer who had captured his heart, who was supposed to be his act of true love, Mathias turned his back on Lukas and walked towards his half-brother.

* * *

It was not calm that befell the storm after Berwald had collapsed on his knees. It was more like the storm was waiting for the right moment, for the king to break again to come back stronger than ever. It was not as though Berwald noticed all this. All he could see was his brother. His brother laughing and twirling in the snow, his brother calling innocently out to him through the locked door, his brother dancing like the drunken dork he was at the coronation, his brother lying dead, cold as ice at Berwald's hands. Every fight they'd ever had, every blow they'd ever exchanged, every one of the millions of regrets he had transformed into broken sobs he couldn't hold back.

He was made aware of his surroundings when Tino screamed, "King Berwald, look out!" Looking up, it was too late for him to see the arrow headed straight for his heart. Tino moved forward in an attempt to save him, but someone had beat him to it.

Initially Berwald didn't know who his self sacrificing saviour was. All he saw was a blur of pure clear ice and heard the clang as the broken arrow hit the floor. With bated breath Berwald looked up to see what had intercepted the fatal attack, and he immediately felt pain worse than a thousand arrows could procure. As the final breath was exhaled from the now lifeless statue, a million horrendous thoughts ran through Berwald's head, but only one word could escape.

"Mathias." It was not a scream, not aggressive, not angry. It was not a question of the reality of the situation. It was not an attempt to see if his brother was really alive. It was merely the only thing Berwald could think of. The fragile image before him, his brother a frozen statue, his once vibrant blue eyes a lifeless grave.

Berwald stood up, and turned to face his brother's front. When he reached forward to touch Mathias' cheek and felt the cold that had never bothered him before, it was like a dam being broken. He fell forward, dragged down by the pain he had once tried to conceal but now demanded to be felt. Berwald hugged his brother tight, the wrongness of the situation overwhelming. Someone like Mathias should never be cold, never still, never a source of sadness. It was against everything he had ever stood for. It made Berwald's cries that much louder.

A crowd had made its way around the moment of grief. Tino was gasping for breathe between sobs, each tear dripping down his face in a steady beat. Emil, who had finally made his way out of the frozen deathtrap that was the castle, was sitting on the ground softly weeping and whimpering Mathias' name over and over again. The worst was Mathias'...friend who Berwald remembered his brother had called Lukas. The quiet, rational boy was screaming, piercing the quiet atmosphere with howls made not of words, but instead the shattering of someone's heart. Berwald noticed it all, adding to the misery that his brother, who was so universally loved and admired, was gone, and he still remained.

Unexpectedly everyone in the group gasped but in all his grief Berwald didn't notice until the once solid mass of ice he was clinging onto became a soft black and red coat, and the heartbreaking silence was replaced by shuttering gasps of relief by Mathias, who was alive again and smiling brightly at everyone around him through barely concealed tears.

There was no pause. The effect was instant. Emil was already tackling Mathias in a furious hug, screaming, "Don't you ever do that shit to me again! I thought you died! Oh my god, you're alive!" as Mathias patted his back in an attempt to be comforting.

Next up was Tino, who gave Mathias a friendly hug before wiping off his tears and saying, "I'm glad you're okay Mathias, but if you'll excuse me, I have an American to...talk to." He then left to exact whatever fiery vengeance the Finnish man deemed necessary.

Lukas then walked forward, slowly, as if worried that Mathias would turn to ice again. When they locked eyes, Mathias quickly flashed his signature cocky smile that couldn't conceal the adoration in his gaze. "So… I thought you said you didn't love m-"

Mathias never got to finish the word before Lukas had grabbed him by the collar and began kissing him. When they broke apart, their foreheads touching lightly with both of them out of breath, all Lukas whispered was, "Shut up, idiot."

Finally Mathias looked away and noticed Berwald standing nervously to the side. The Swedish man had a thousand things he wanted to say, but the first one was the most important. "How?"

Stepping around Lukas, the Dane gave a small smile at Berwald's obvious confusion. Suddenly Mathias lunged forward and hugged his family for the first time in decades as brothers. He laughed lightly and murmured directly into Berwald's ear, "True love. Family love counts, I guess… You actually love me."

And for the first time in a long time, Berwald showed his brother, his greatest obstacle and strongest motivation in his life, outwards affection and hugged back. The cold outer layer he had maintained for so long broke, as both tears and laughter made its way to the frozen summer day, but as they say somethings are made to be broken.


	2. PruCan and FACE Family Tangled

_(Author's note- I had this next chapter ready to go, so here it is. The next one might not be as soon, just a warning. Also as someone who has never been in love before, writing romance is hard. But enough of my complaining. Enjoy!)_

 _(Author's note 2- Once again thank you to the guest who reminded me about copyright. I've removed the song and changed the name. Also I do not own Hetalia or the story of Rapunzel. This is just a work based on the stories. All rights go to Hidekaz Himaruya and Disney)_

 **FACE Family/ PruCan Rapunzel**

 **Matthew (Canada)= Rapunzel (He was the one who got sick as a baby, not any of his dads. He and Alfred were adopted. There is no mpreg to be found here. Also because I can't imagine him as a brunette, cut hair still remains blonde, just powerless)**

 **Gilbert (Prussia)= Eugene**

 **Allistor (Scotland)= Mother Gothel (He was Arthur's older brother who saw the potential Matthew's power could have so he kidnapped his nephew. I just love evil Scotland, but unfortunately I didn't get to write any of him)**

 **Francis (France)= The Queen (But he is still a king, he just takes the queen's role within the story's context. Once again, no mpreg)**

 **Arthur (England)= The King**

 **Antonio (Spain)= Castle guard**

 **Also Alfred (America) is in this as Mattie's older brother because why not**

For a moment the tower was filled with silence. The brutal demise of Matthew's caretaker for eighteen years was shocking, even if his true intentions in raising his nephew were nauseating. Matthew was still poised to lunge forward, his instincts saying to lean down and save Allistor, despite the logical side of his mind saying that the fall had to have killed him.

Speaking of killed, a sickeningly wet cough filled the air, chilling Matthew to the bone despite it being still early afternoon. Instantly the prince was in action, putting pressure on Gilbert's wound that seemed to be gushing an infinite amount of blood that stained everything Matthew saw red.

"Gil, oh god Gil! You're gonna be okay, okay! Okay! Ah, Gil! Why did you do that?!" Everytime Matthew looked up and saw that Gil's usually enthusiastic and mischievous face was twisted in pain, his heart flew. Tears welled in his eyes, yet Matthew still clung to the desperate, fruitless attempt to save him.

With a groan that was too weak, to pitiful for the strong brave vigilante that had save his life in so many ways, Gilbert eyes slowly closed and his breaths became more laboured. Matthew's mind went into overdrive. He could barely see through the tears that overwhelmed him. "No! No! Gil, no! Please no!"

Eyes darted around frantically as yet more blood poured from the stab wound and Gilbert's body sagged further. Matthew just needed something, anything. He prayed to whatever master of fate that had brought the wonderful, kind, perfect soul that was dying in front of him into Matthew's life.

It was hopeless, he knew. The hair was cut, he knew what that meant. But it was a time for miracles. The universe could not be so cruel that it shoved the two men together only to rip them apart as violently as possible. So Matthew still tried, and through his tears he sang, a song shaky and full of sobs and the type of desperate hope only true love could bring.

A hand on his face caused Matthew to stop his song mid lyric. It was so strong and familiar, Matthew was sure the song had to have worked. Looking down at Gilbert, he still saw the horrendous wound, but through the scarlet red eyes more shocking than the blood, the lost prince also saw a determination that pushed through the pain. As tears welled in those eyes, Gilbert pooled all his strength to utter the final words that were so important to him. With nothing but love that was going to be lost too soon, the thief wiped away Matthew's tears and groaned out, "You were my new dream."

Matthew felt a fury he had never known before, anger at Allistor for ripping his life away from him, anger at himself for being so utterly useless without his stupid hair, and anger at Gil for giving him the world and more but taking it away. As tenderly as he could, not wanting to break the fragile quiet that the two shared, Matthew sobbed, "And you were mine."

Gilbert gave his lover one last smile, not cocky, but sad and sweet and pained, before all the expression slipped off his face, and the hand on Matthew's cheek fell, leaving a coldness that burned Matthew alive.

There was nothing left for Matthew to do other than clutch onto Gil's body like a lifeline. The thief had been the only thing in his life that Matthew knew was good and pure, the only love that was not tainted by the greed Allistor had convinced him the world was full of. Matthew's entire world had been reconstructed by Gil, and now with his death the albino man had knocked everything down.

The lost prince's tears flowed freely, mixing with the blood covering the couple. The blood might as well have been Matthew's, it pained him so much. His eyes were clenched shut in agony, so it was through his eyelids that he first saw the warm yellow glow. His gasp filled the room when he looked up to see the same light he had once cultivated dancing across the room, all originating from Gilbert's wound. The power somehow warmed the frigid darkness that had overtaken the room. It washed over Matthew and momentarily blinded him from his grief.

When the show ended, Matthew still looked up to see if any light remained. So he was even more surprised when he heard a fond chuckle and a voice that teased in a familiar German accent, "Did I ever tell you I like guys with short hair more?"

Tears, this time of joy, filled the Canadian's eyes. He lunged forward, desperate to feel Gilbert alive again, to feel the warmth that only his lover could fill him with. Pulling away from the hug to look up into Gilbert's scarlet, overjoyed eyes, the need the hold the German man close and never let go overwhelmed him. The men's lips met, clashing together but not fighting, more so dancing passionately.

Matthew had lived in one place his whole life. It was the only place he had ever known. But there in Gilbert's arms, connected in ways only the universe seemed to know, the lost prince was finally home.

* * *

The room was filled with an agitated, nervous tension. No one could keep still and frankly no one bothered to try. Prince Alfred was always in a state of restlessness, but this time it was it wasn't out of boredom that his hands vibrated in his lap and constantly grabbed at objects on his father's desk only to put it back seconds later. Likewise King Francis was also in a state of anxiety, pacing back and forth across the study, occasionally mumbling to himself in both his home tongue of French and second language of English. The words were indiscernible, merely an attempt clear his frenzied mind. Even King Arthur, considered out of the whole family to be the most grounded was effected. His emerald eyes darted out the window every few seconds, as though to see if the object of their worries was right outside.

After an eternity of waiting, the study doors creaked open. Instantly all members of the royal family were on their feet. When Antonio entered, Alfred wasted no time in asking, "Is it really…"

There was no need to finish the sentence, the royal guard already knew. His voice contained barely concealed excitement as he answered, "Yes, he is right on the main balcony your Majesties."

All thoughts of maintaining dignity and grace were pushed aside as the family dashed past their servant and through the lavishly decorated hall. The entire world seemed to be holding its breath, waiting with anticipation.

Soon the large wooden door loomed ahead, but just as the kings were about to push it open, Alfred stammered, "Wait."

The royal couple turned towards their son expectantly, leading the prince to ask, "What if it's not him?"

Arthur hesitated, before grabbing his son's hand and squeezing it assuringly. "Let's just see first."

Nodding and joining his dads, the family all turned to the door and pushed it open. There on the balcony a young man that was a shock of pale white skin and hair, along with the brightest red eyes to ever be seen stood. What concerned the monarchs more was the boy in his arms.

Despite the violet eyes that none of them shared and the uneven haircut that attempted to hide his face, it was clear that the child was Alfred's twin. They looked exactly alike, down to the wavy blond hair Francis loved to claim was his family's pride and joy. The resemblance was almost too perfect to be real.

At once Francis and the boy both stepped forward, the latter's movement full of uncertainty and the former's full of hope. A hand slipped forward and cupped the child's cheek, bringing his violet eyes up to meet bright blue ones. The boy leaned ever so slightly into the touch, as if he craved that parental affection. The whole scene was delicate and pure.

The boy basically melted into Francis' arms when he moved forward into a tender embrace. With a voice cracked by eighteen years worth of bottled up emotions, Francis whispered, "Matthieu, mon fils."

Desperate to also embrace his long lost family, Alfred ran forward and basically tacked his brother and father in a hug that left them all laughing through tears. Arthur hesitated to join until he saw Matthew's childlike gaze through the mess of arms, then quickly joined the group hug.

Everything was so strangely perfect but not for a moment fake. It was like a puzzle that had been left unsolved for far too long, its missing piece returned. Every squeeze, laugh, and smile was brighter than the sun that continued to shine above it all. Gilbert felt his heartstrings tug at the warming sight before him. And when Matthew's hand grabbed him and pulled him into the embrace of family love, holding him so tight that their hearts seemed to collide and join as one, Gilbert was entitled to agree with his lost prince. This was home.


	3. RusAme Pocahontas

_(Author's note- Okay first off, ahhhhhhh! Thank you to everyone who read my story, and especially thank you to Cone of Depression for your lovely reviews. In regards to the Scotland thing, logically he would want Matthew for immortality, but I low key imagined him using the hair to cure hangovers lol. Anyway please consider reviewing. It's honestly sooooo inspiring. Also I do not own Hetalia or Pocahontas. All rights go to Disney and Hidekaz Himaruya. Enjoy!)_

 **Pocahontas**

 **Ivan (Russia)= Pocahontas (He was the chief of his people, the Soviets, but was deemed unfit to lead after he fell in love with and was caught kissing Alfred)**

 **Alfred (America)= John Smith (Don't worry, if USUK is more your speed, I have a different thing planned)**

 **Natalya (Belarus)= Kocoum/Powhatan/Ratcliffe/Idk man, she's evil (She had a crush on Ivan forever, but after she saw him with Alfred, she became bitter and angry and used it as an excuse to regain control)**

 **Toris (Lithuania)= Nakoma/Kocoum**

Never had Ivan felt more trapped than he did right then. Because he had reached the limits of his physical capabilities, but couldn't afford to slow down. While his mind, his heart was screaming to go faster, faster, faster, the burning in his legs and lungs told him otherwise. It wasn't enough, as he dodged around a large boulder and leaped over another small stream. Every second, footstep, breathe he wasted trying to get to the cliff where the execution was planned was a second he imagined Alfred lying dead, his head cut off at the hands of his sister. So he channeled that love that had broken all the barriers the world could throw at them and tried to break another. He ran faster.

The distant sound of the drums that once signalled home but now spelt nothing but sorrow sent his heart racing. He was so focused on going faster, because now in the distance he could see the peak of the cliff, he didn't even feel the tears coursing down his cheeks. Nothing else mattered but joining the second half of his heart that was tied up and cursing at Natalya as the others dragged him towards the crest of the peak.

Finally Ivan reached the crowd gathered near near the cliff. Eyes locked on the prone form of his lover who should have been standing tall, laughing hysterically, blushing in embarrassment, not kneeling on the ground, fear barely concealed in his stupid, ugly, beautiful face, waiting for death. The former chief began shoving people out of the way, with no regard to anyone's safety other than Alfred's.

"Ivan?!" A shocked Toris exclaimed and moved to grab his friend's arm, but it was like trying to grab the wind, or stop an avalanche, an immovable force.

Finally Ivan was through and stood right behind his sister. He noticed a lot of things: Natalya's arm raised, infamous dagger in hand, Alfred's group approaching in the distance, gun's raised and ready for war, and a blood red sunrise ominously framing it all. The only thing Ivan really saw though was the utter defeat in Alfred's eyes, a pain that left Ivan breathless.

Almost instantly he was on top of the explorer. Their bodies fit together perfectly, Ivan wrapping his arms tightly around the American. It was a desperate embrace for a desperate situation, both parties terrified of having to let go and never being able to return. He felt Alfred's breathing quicken, and even that little sign of life moved him to tears at the thought of it all being gone.

"Stop! Natalya, everyone stop!" The Russian man yelled, desperate to be heard amongst the sounds of brewing war. Murmurs resonated over both Ivan and Alfred's groups. Somehow Toris had pushed his way to the front of the crowd and was looking from Ivan to Natalya, debating whether to support his friend or not.

Natalya's face was a picture of livid rage, distorting what would normally be a very beautiful woman. Through gritted teeth, she hissed, "You are no longer chief Ivan, you do not make that call."

Ivan shot back with equal bitterness, "I do not need to be chief to make the right decision, _sister._ Stubborn ignorance has ruled my path for too long, and it has lead us down a path of violence."

At this Ivan rose to his full height, pulling Alfred up with him. When he began speaking again, he wasn't addressing Natalya or the Westerners or anyone, not even Alfred. He was just speaking the words that needed to be heard.

"I have seen so much in my life, an entire nation grow, but nothing more significant than what has been learned most recently. We are all different, and all of us are guilty of using that difference as excuses. But I have seen through the difference, through the lens and seen that our differences are nothing. We all smile and laugh, cry and yell, live and die, and most of all, love." At this Ivan turned towards Alfred, who had managed to free his arms of the ropes that had previously tied him. Cupping Alfred's face in his hands, he gently leaned forward to kiss him. After he pulled away, Alfred began blushing an adorable red that Ivan couldn't help but giggle at.

Natalya somehow seemed even more angry, but just as she stepped forward, Toris also moved to stand in front. His voice lost its perpetual stutter as he called out, "Listen to Ivan! We have blamed each other for being violent, but look at us! All prepared to go to war! I am not claiming to be wiser, or braver, or stronger, but if Ivan's path leads to peace and my best friend being happier than he's ever been before, and Natalya's leads to more blood being spilt, then the choice seems clear to me."

The silence was deafening. No soul was stupid enough to be the first to move. Until Alfred broke free of Ivan's grip and stepped toward Toris. With the dorkiest grin Ivan had ever seen, he hugged Toris close and whispered a barely audible, "Thank you."

All at once Soviets and Westerners alike looked down at their weapons, as if wondering what had happened that had compelled them to pick up the vile things in the first place. One by one swords and guns were put down, and somewhat tense but well-natured smiles were shared. All were collectively taking a step towards a better future.

All but one.

"No!" Natalya's screech was like a banshee's cry, chilling and overflowing with underlying madness. "I have waited my whole life for you, I have given you my everything, and _this_ is how you repay me!"

Ivan was suddenly acutely aware of the knife still clenched in his sister's fist, and subconsciously stepped towards the equally concerned American.

"Natalya," Alfred said calmly, and Ivan wanted to scream at him to run, for both of them to run, because after all they had been through, all the Russian man desperately wanted was his happy ending, "I know you're upset, and I know it's hard, but Ivan doesn't love you. He never will."

Laughter echoed over the clearing, cold and merciless, broken and too, too sad. Natalya's manic giggles coupled with the tear stains on her cheeks sang a song of heartbreak. Her retort was slow and teasing. "Yeah… he doesn't… and it's all because of _you_!"

The knife whipping from its concealment behind her back to in front of her and lunging towards a shocked Alfred took only moments. It was too quick for Alfred to try and move out of the way. But for Ivan, who had spent the whole exchange ready to protect his American dream, it was just enough time.

Lunging forward to tackle Alfred out of the way, he gasped as the breath was knocked out of him when they collided with the rock ground. In the background, Ivan heard a struggle as presumably Toris and others dragged a screaming Natalya away. Then the previous chief gasped again as adrenaline faded, and the pain in his back and abdomen went from a dull ache to so poignant and overwhelming he could almost taste it.

"Ivan…" Alfred breathed out as he noticed the blood pouring onto the ground from the stab wound in Ivan's back. Then when the pain became to much, and Ivan collapsed forward on the American's shoulder, the name became more frantic. "Ivan. Ivan. Ivan, Ivan, IvanIvanIvan! IVAN!"

Everything, every sense was sharp, burning and twisting across his mind. The ground beneath him was a searing hot hell, the air was thick and impossible to breath, and the sounds all around echoed over and over again, increasing until they were all he could hear and completely numb in his ears. The only constant as Ivan drifted was Alfred's voice, so strong, so weak, dreamlike and beautiful.

Memories blurred and shifted, people touched him, hugged him, his mom, dad, Toris, Natalya, and Alfred. Whose blue eyes, filled with anger and panic and sadness and maybe even love but Ivan was fading too fast to know, were seared into his thoughts as his eyes closed, and he finally fell into a warm sleep. The voices were last to leave, but Ivan was glad. Glad that the last thing he ever knew was his lover's, his hero's voice.

"Who are you?"

"Ivan, please!"

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Hold on! Please hold on!"

"Well cutie, my name's Alfred F. Jones!"

"For god sakes someone help him!"

"Of course I'm the hero! It's what I was born to do."

"No! No!"

"I'll see you later, right?"

"Please… don't leave me!"

And all Ivan wanted to do was tell him he wasn't leaving him, that he didn't want to let go, that there was no help for the world for him, but Ivan's time was up. One day he would have the chance though. He would wait for that day, when Alfred would join him in his field of yellow sunflowers.

 _(Sorry, if you thought this would have a happy ending… if it makes you feel better, I was an emotional wreck writing it. But yeah, sorry)_


	4. Giripan Hercules

_(Author's note- You ever have that ship that you just can't write angst for? Yeah, this is that ship for me. I tried to keep the theme of doing the dark, sad part of the movie for each ship but no, I couldn't do it. Anyway hope you still enjoy the story. Thank you to sasunaru13, Cone of Depression, and guest for your lovely reviews. In the future if you're looking for different ships for the people I've already done ex. USUK or PruHun, know that I have those stories and tons more planned out each with their own fairytale, so patience is key. Also note that I do not own Hetalia or Hercules. All rights go to Hidekaz Himaruya and Disney. Please consider reviewing and enjoy!)_

 _(Author's note 2- So something was going on with this chapter where it wasn't being_ _uploaded and the link wasn't working for me and it was stressing me out so I decided to make the irrational decision to delete this chapter and reupload it to see if it works. If you got the notification and thought this was a new chapter, sorry)_

 **Hercules**

 **Heracles (Greece)= Hercules (Duh, lol)**

 **Kiku (Japan)= Meg (He sold his soul to Sadik and was forced to work for him, so if he appears kind of cold in the story, it is just because he doesn't want anyone getting hurt by his boss because of the choices he made)**

 **Helena (Ancient Greece)= Zeus**

 **Sadik (Turkey)= Hades (God, can you imagine this jerk being an actual god of death? *shudders*)**

 **Muhammed (Egypt)= Phil (Okay, so I know in canon Egypt's name is Gupta, but I'm Arabic and I just can't get over how much that doesn't make sense. It's not an Arabic name, and in the Arabic alphabet there is no "p" so the name couldn't exist. So for my own personal reasons, I'm using his middle name instead. Sorry if there is a problem with that)**

Muhammed's cheers of congratulations and Pegasus' neighs were loud and aggressive. The beaten centaur's groans of pain, the rushing of the river they had been fighting in, and the beating of Pegasus' wings as he hovered in the air were also there, just more subtle. But none of them really comprehended in Heracles' mind. All he really processed was the man he had just saved as the stranger made his way out of the rushing water and onto the banks.

"You did well Heracles. With more practice, it is not out of the question for you to become a hero and join your mother… where are you going?" A slightly offended at being ignored Muhammed asked.

Heracles didn't even realize that he had been moving towards the smaller man. It was like gravity was pulling him forward, desperate to see more of someone so stunning. When he was right in front of the dripping wet figure, the usually smooth and well-practiced Greek man had nothing to say. His thoughts were preoccupied with pale, blemish free skin, hair that he wanted to run his fingers through or pet like one of his cats, and eyes so beautiful he felt unworthy to be looked at.

Realizing that the man had been looking up at him questioningly and that he had been staring for probably more than too long, Heracles tried to look away, but only ended up noticing the shivers that ghosted along the man's arms. The Greek hero made quick work in shrugging off his jacket and tucking it around the man. He was sp busy trying not to be caught staring again, he didn't see the Asian man's pale face turn red when he noticed his saviour's muscular arms.

Eyes locked when Heracles finished adjusting the jacket. The places where skin had met skin seemed to burn in the best possible way. Again the demigod was enamoured by his eyes. They possessed an intelligence and alertness that was somehow also calm and soothing. Perfect didn't even begin to describe them.

An awkward throat clearing by Muhammad alerted Heracles to the fact that, despite there being a lingering feeling of a relationship so deep it had to have been forged years ago, no words had been spoken between the two. Desperate to interact with his damsel in distress, Heracles drawled out in his slow, sleepy tone, "I'm sorry you got wet sir. I'll be more careful next time."

The other man raised an eyebrow slightly and seemed to have a teasing tone, though still fairly polite and neutral, when he shot back, "And why do you assume there will be a next time?"

The stranger's accent was instantly Heracles' favourite in the world, despite its origin being unknown. He chuckled and retorted, "I would consider it a gift from the gods if I had the chance to save someone as beautiful as you again."

With widened eyes and a shocked expression, the man became so adorable Heracles had to fight the urge to coddle him, hold him close, and never let him go.

Turning away in embarrassment, the Asian man mumbled back, "Well I never asked for your assistance."

At this Heracles tilted his head. "But… you were in danger. Who knows what that monster would have done to you."

Dipping down, the angel began to wring out his shirt, slightly disappointing the Greek man when he didn't completely remove it. As he did this, he stated, "I was perfectly in control of the situation, and even if I had gotten hurt, it wouldn't have been any of your business."

Heracles felt his heart drop. The thought of the stranger in front of him being hurt in any way was unbearable. Still he couldn't stop the confusion that the statement brought. Who willingly did business with a centaur? Everyone in all of Greece knew that they were violent and barbaric creatures.

"But…" Heracles never got to finish his sentence. The man had apparently finished drying off, and stood up to face the hero. Silently he removed the jacket and returned the now wet article back to its owner. With a finality that was too sure and something almost like regret hidden beneath the tranquility in his eyes, the man averted his gaze and began walking down the river.

Already feeling the heartbreak at losing someone so special after so little time, Heracles moved to go after him, but Muhammed's hand on his arm stopped him. In his normal mature and friendly tone, the Egyptian advised, "Let him be. You can't expect all to be grateful for what you do. C'mon, there will be others to save"

"Yeah…" Heracles said halfheartedly, though in actuality he wanted nothing more than to go after the man, because there was no way anyone would come close to the man he just met. Still, despite being categorized as the type to be intimate with anyone, the demigod did have respect. So he followed his mentor's light tugging and turned away.

Just as he was about to mount Pegasus and continue flying towards Thebes, a voice that was somehow still quiet despite being projected across a clearing called out sheepishly, "Wait."

Turning around, Heracles' heart caught in his throat when he saw the man was back again. He was standing on top of a hill with the sun to his back. With the beams of light dancing around him and the wind tousling his hair so perfectly, the hero was not unconvinced that the figure before him was some sort of siren or nymph. His beauty was so breathtakingly real, it had to have been something supernatural.

With words laced with uncharacteristic fondness, the man gently said, "Thank you for saving me Mr…"

Realizing that the pause was intended for him and grateful at getting a chance to interact with the mysterious stranger yet again, the Greek man replied with a grin, "Heracles. Just call me Heracles."

Nodding, the man began walking away, leading to Heracles being the one to call out first. "Wait. Shouldn't I get your name too? It's only fair."

The stranger seemed hesitant, and for a second Heracles was scared he would be robbed of an answer. Nevertheless a quiet response with the sexy accent reached his ears. "Kiku. Kiku Honda."

Finally Heracles' face broke out into a large smile. The name "Kiku" was already fondly etched in his brain to never be forgotten. Recognizing the subtly impatient look in Muhammed's eye, Heracles reluctantly climbed onto Pegasus' back and spurred his pet to fly forwards.

Before they completely left the treetops of the forest, Heracles leaned towards the figure curiously observing in the middle of the clearing and yelled out, "I will see you again Kiku! I promise!" And though the level of commitment in the demigod's voice was shocking due to his laid back and unrestrained nature, Heracles had full intention of keeping that promise.

* * *

When the sounds of Pegasus' flapping had died down completely and the figures in horizon became unrecognizable, Kiku finally stopped gazing wistfully into the distance, desperate to catch one last fleeting glimpse of the amazing man who saved him.

With a determined sigh, the Japanese man turned back towards the forest, where he knew Sadik would be waiting to hear his report on how convincing the centaur to join the Lord of the Dead's army went. He tried to mentally prepare himself for the anger Sadik would undoubtedly have at his failure, but all thoughts were drawn to the tan muscular hero with teal eyes.

Grimacing as he began his treck to meet his boss, Kiku remembered Heracles' last words to him. Facing the last place he saw the flying horse retreat, he murmured to himself, "And for your own sake Heracles-san, I hope you break that promise."


	5. LietPol Cinderella

_(Author's note- OMG I'm not dead! Actually though I'm sooooo sorry for this chapter taking forever and being kinda short. School is draining my life away I swear. But anyway I'm still back! So for this chapter I increased the rating because there is kinda some homophobia in it. Just people being negative against crossdressing and assuming genders but just in case, here's a warning. Also I always hated the fact that the prince couldn't recognize Cinderella without the shoe. How could he love her if he couldn't even recognize her!? So that change is there. Thank you to Cone of Depression for your awesome review. Finally, I do not own Cinderella or Hetalia. All rights go the Hidekaz Himaruya and Disney. Enjoy!)_

 **Cinderella**

 **Feliks (Poland)= Cinderella**

 **Toris (Lithuania)= Prince Charming (Maybe with his... history with Russia the story would have worked out better with him as Cinderella, but I could not imagine anyone else rocking that dress other then Poland, so yeah)**

 **Ivan Braginsky (Russia)= Evil Stepmother/father (It was inevitable he was gonna be evil in at least one of the stories)**

 **Yekaterina (Ukraine)= Stepsister (But not evil! Ukraine is my precious child too pure to be evil!)**

 **Natalya (Belarus)= Stepsister (Also not evil! I couldn't do that to her twice)**

 **Eduard (Estonia)= Grand Duke**

 **Raivis (Latvia)= Castle** **servant**

"Ivan! Ivan, please! I have to, like, see the prince! Let me out!"

His stepfather's maniacal giggle rang in his ears. "But Feliks, they are looking for a beautiful person in a dress. That could not be you, da?"  
And with that the Russian man descended the stairs to the attic, leaving the only sounds Feliks pounding on the door and his gasping sobs.

The irony of the situation occurred to Feliks as he slid down the door crying, still fruitlessly hitting it. The orphan could do nothing but agree with his stepfather. Why would the prince- no, Toris, after that magical night he had asked the stranger in the beautiful silver dress to not be so formal and just call him Toris. Why would Toris want him? He was useless, nothing more than a slave, an object. Even worse, he knew that his cross dressing combined with speech patterns made him appear feminine. Feliks couldn't help but imagine the disgust on the dream like royals face if he learned he was a dirty peasant boy.

That was an if that didn't seem likely to be true. From his attic prison he could hear unfamiliar voices downstairs, along with Yekaterina's, Natalya's, and Ivan's, probably people from the castle checking those in the house and the shoe. No doubt Ivan was pushing his sisters at Toris, desperate to rise to power. And frankly, it didn't really matter whether Toris excepted them or not. Because he would never except Feliks.

The unfairness of it all sent him reeling, barely able to draw breaths as he wailed and cried. The world couldn't just be cruel to him. It had to give him just the most fleeting, desperate hint of freedom, light, anything, then rip it away. How was it possible that Feliks already mourned the loss of his life with Toris when it had never begun?

The Polish man was so distraught he missed hearing the voices leading up to the stairs, only becoming aware when the door swung open, and he embarrassingly fell on his face. Hands moved to help him up at the same time someone snorted. Looking up, Feliks' eyes widened in surprise, and he pushed his saviours away. "What are, like, you guys doing here?"

Yekaterina played with the hem of her dress guiltily. "I-I mean we- I guess- sorta-" breathing out to collect her thoughts, she continued, "We've been so cruel to you for many years. I'm sorry. I know I can never make it up, but I figured this is a start."

Feliks glared suspiciously at the other sister. "Like, is that true Natalya?"

The silver-haired woman's eyes narrowed at her brother's stepson. "Don't get any ideas. Big brother wants one of us to marry the prince, and that isn't happening."

Feliks was going to make a snarky remark back at the frightening sibling, but before he could a voice echoed through the house, "There is nothing for us here, let's leave your highness."

Yekaterina darted forward and grabbed Feliks' hand. Giving it a reassuring squeeze, she whispered, "Go get your happy ending, Feliks."  
Through teary eyes he smiled back at the sisters, then left down the stairs, praying he wasn't too late.

* * *

The house was beautiful, well kept, clean, and no doubt comfortably warm. So why Prince Toris was standing there shivering, more uncomfortable than ever before was quite unnerving. Whether due to the lack of life in the large mansion, the dark aura that seemed to follow Mr. Braginky as they talked, the two woman of the house who disappeared soon after they failed to fit the shoe, or some combination of it all, it was enough to put Toris on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

Apparently he was not alone in his thinking. With shaky hands the Grand Duke, Eduard, set his teacup down and gave the large owner of the house a tight smile. "Um, thank you for the refreshments, kind sir, but none of the inhabitants of the house fit the shoe, and there are still many places we must be, so perhaps it is time for us to leave."

Toris' servant Raivis was quick to also agree. "Yes, we really ought to go your highness." The poor boy was almost in tears at the end of his sentence from having to confront the increasingly angry Mr. Braginsky.

With a childlike grin that seemed too wide, the man stood up to his full height and responded, "Yes, of course. But when you do not find the woman you are looking for, my sisters will still be here."

Two things bugged Toris about what was just said. First of all, it was never confirmed that the person he had danced with and talked with and fell in love with for hours last night had been a girl. The royal court and his parents insisted that because the stranger wore a dress, they must've been a woman. But for some reason thinking that the captivating beauty he had met with was a girl felt bitter and wrong. Frankly Toris didn't care if the person from last night was a genderless alien from Mars. He just wanted them back in his arms, never to let go again.

Secondly, something in the Russian man's tone alarmed Toris. Did he know more than he revealed? It was only fear of death by a large sociopath that stopped him from marching up to Mr. Braginsky and demanding he reveal all he knew. The thought of something, someone actively trying to keep him from the enchanting stranger was infuriating beyond belief.

As always, Eduard was able to sense his Highness' suspicions and acted quick to avoid conflict. Forcefully but gently he grabbed Toris' arm and pulled him out of the salon and to the door, Raivis scurrying behind them to keep up. Speaking loud enough to tell Ivan that they were leaving, he stated "There is nothing for us here, let's leave your highness."

Just before the trio was about to leave, a shockingly familiar voice yelled "Wait! Please, wait!"

At the top of the stairs a person with shoulder length blonde hair and piercing emerald green eyes stood. They were wearing a tattered and stained maid's dress, and soot was smeared all over their face and arms. The person looked at the group nervously, biting their lip and shuffling their feet. While the royal servants asked the person what they wanted, the only coherent thought Toris could make was, "I must be staring at an angel."

Mr. Braginsky's maniacal laugh snapped Toris back to reality, as well as causing Raivis to actually cry out in fear. Glaring harshly at the figure, who avoided the man's violet gaze, he assured, "That is just my family's servant boy Feliks. For some reason he enjoys wearing dresses and acting as a girl. Just ignore him."

"No!" the person, Feliks, retorted, "I am no longer going to, like, sit around and let you ruin my life! I am done losing to you Ivan!"

The feminine man rushed down the stairs and wearily eyed the members of the palace before finally locking eyes with Toris. Yes, there was dirt on his face and rips in his clothes, and yes, now that he was closer up it was obvious that he was indeed a man, but despite all that, the only thing Toris could truly see was the longing in those beautiful eyes. Eyes that had once looked back at him as the clock struck midnight and said goodbye.

This time though, Toris was determined to never lose his angel again.

"Your highness," Feliks hesitated, his face turning red from the anxiety, "I know this- I understand that-that you're, like, probably expecting a girl. And-And that's totally, like, fine. If you don't-don't believe me- I mean I hope you do!- But if you, like, completely think-umm completely think I'm lying… look if you would just, like, let me try on the shoe, that'd be-"

Striding forward, Toris grabbed Feliks' hands, ignoring Eduard's protests and Ivan's vague threats. Feliks was now completely silent, looking up hopefully but also fearfully at the prince in front of him. With a gentle touch, Toris pushed the loose strands of blonde hair out of the heavenly face that winced at the contact, probably expecting the man to strike him. Toris couldn't help but marvel at the sight before him. Whether in a fancy dress waltzing in a ballroom, smiling brighter than all the stars above them combined or standing in the foyer of a cruel man's mansions, eyes now clenched tight and bottom lip quivering slightly in fear, it was undoubted that the prince had found the person of his dreams.

Cupping either side of Feliks head, Toris gently brought his lips down the meet the perfect pink ones. It was all the Lithuanian had ever wanted in life as he stood there holding his love in his arms. And when they both finally broke away, Feliks now having tears of joy streaming down his cheeks, Toris couldn't help but laugh, wipe a stray tear off of his face, and say, "Whether you're a man, woman, or anything in between, it doesn't matter. You're still the most beautiful thing this earth has to offer."

The prince also said that exact same thing at Feliks' and his wedding, where his new husband wore a stunning white wedding dress with nothing but pride.


	6. FrUk and AmeCan Beauty and the Beast

_(Author's note- So apparently I'm not dead. Only on the inside. If you're still reading this story thank you for appreciating my disaster of procrastination. Legitimately my phone broke and apparently that is one hell of motivator to get off my ass and actually do some shit. Anyway here's the next chapter! It goes without saying, but I do not own Beauty and the Beast or Hetalia, all rights go Disney and Hidekaz Himaruya. Thank you to Cone of Depression for your last review. Please consider reviewing and enjoy!)_

 **Beauty and the Beast**

 **Arthur (England)= The Beast**

 **Francis (France)= Belle (Yeah, he's pretty much the most beautiful person ever, so this makes sense)**

 **Peter (Sealand)= Chip (He's only in is for less than a second though)**

 **Berwald (Sweden)= Mrs Potts (Once again, only mentioned)**

 **Alfred (America)= Lumiere**

 **Matthew (Canada)= Plumette (That's her name in the 2017 reboot. If you don't recognize it, he's the feather duster)**

 **I didn't think too hard about who would be the villain in this as it's not relevant in the scene I wrote, but I considered Prussia as Gaston if you're curious**

Somehow new life had been breathed into the previously desolate and dreary castle. Maybe after spending a year living out a very much stereotypical fairytale story similar to something he would read in one of his books, Francis had gotten overly sentimental. Yet in some way the sunrise's light filtering through the windows seemed brighter, the colours on the intricate tapestry pieces and carpeting seemed less dull, and the sound of servants running from room to room in a hurry sounded sweeter.

To be fair the servants were noticeably more energetic, and rightfully so. They did now have back the humans bodies that had been stolen from them. It was truly something else to see the change in demeanor in the staff as he and Arthur strode through the corridors to check on them all.

Speaking of Arthur, it was still a struggle for Francis to look at the king standing next to him, head of golden hair held high with a newly found metaphorical crown on top. Somewhere in his mind the frenchman found that he missed the beast he had spent the last couple of months getting to know and falling in love with.

However, whenever Arthur spoke to the invigorated staff members in that pretentious voice of his or squinted his eyes while thinking the way the beast always had, Francis knew that this man was the same as the angry monster that he had been imprisoned by so long ago.  
Arthur looked up from sending a newly human child Peter to find his father. When his eyes met Francis' he began to subconsciously fix his torn shirt, then cleared his throat and asked, "What are you smiling about, frog?"

Francis chuckled when he realized he had in fact been smiling fondly at Arthur while the king looked over his castle. He grabbed the englishman's hand and responded, "Oh, nothing. Just marveling at the fact that I'm taller than you now.'

Turning red faced while sputtering protests, Arthur pulled his hand away from a laughing Francis, then swatted him on the arm, "Oi, quiet you! I'll have you know that I'm still a member of this bloody royal family. I could have you executed for that insult if I wanted to."

"Oh, I know," Francis teased, "but you won't."

"Really? That's bold of you to assume. Why is that exactly?" The king responded, taking a challenging step forward.

Still grinning like a cat toying with its prey, Francis retorted, "Because first off, I saved your life, so you owe me. Secondly, I broke the curse, so really your entire staff owes me too, and third, you just love me too damn much."

At this point the two men had drifted close enough to each other to touch, which they did. Arthur wrapped his arms around his love's waist and pulled him closer until they almost touched noses. "Wow Francis, you really have me pegged down."

Smirking as he leaned forward for the inevitable kiss, Francis drawled, "Yes, but I'll tell you my secret. It is because of my own love that I know you so well mon petit chou."

Both men continued forward until they were a mere moments away from kissing. But because the universe could not allow the couple to be too happy, just as their lips were about to meet someone shoved them apart from each other to run through the corridor.

Francis was quite angry at this and was about to yell at this mystery person for ruining what was going to be a very romantic moment. Before he could get the chance the unfamiliar man, a boisterous stranger with sky blue eyes and blonde hair, gasped as a new person with purple eyes turned around the corner of the passageway.

"Mattie!" The loud man cried out, and Francis immediately recognized the voice as being Alfred's. Both him and Matthew, no longer a candle holder and feather duster, respectively, ran towards each other. In the centre of the hallway they collided. Together they fell to the floor as they pulled each other into a tight embrace, desperate to feel one another once again.

"Oh my god Mattie, we're human again!" Alfred cried out into his boyfriend's shoulder. Matthew held tight onto the american's jacket while he pulled away for a moment, only to return again as the couple passionately locked lips.

When they both pulled away, tears streaming down both their faces, Matthew cradled Alfred's cheek with his hand. His voice cracked while saying in typical, quiet Matthew fashion, "God, I missed holding you Al."

Alfred grinned and pretended to check out his boyfriend. "Well you're just as handsome as I remember babe."

Blushing, Matthew effectively silenced his lover by surging forward to continue making out with him.

Francis was beaming after witnessing such a wholesome exchange. He turned to face his own boyfriend and was immediately endeared by the tears from the emotional reunion that Arthur was wiping from his face. Deciding to make another move, Francis slipped an arm over the king's shoulders and sighed. "It's a shame really."

After a moment of pondering, Arthur questioned the frenchman somewhat irritated and somewhat confused, "I don't see what you mean."

Francis chuckled, "These two might are so adorable they may steal our title as the castle's best couple."

Arthur laughed, a sweet sound that had Francis internally melting. With a mischievous look in his eyes the former beast yanked an unsuspecting Francis towards him. The peasant man gave an undignified yelp, but his embarrassment soon turned to arousal when Arthur suggested so close to him their lips brushed, "Let's give them a good run for their money then."

Now there was no real way for that kiss to match the first one at all in terms of intensity. Their first kiss was while Arthur was dying in his arms and ended with an explosion of light and a broken curse. Nothing would ever top all that.

But standing in a hallway lit by sunrise's rays in a castle brought back to life, Alfred yelling at them to get a room while Matthew shushed him, his real life fairytale's lips no longer itching him from all the fur, Arthur's breath melding with his as they drank up each other's presence, Francis had to admit it was a pretty close second.


	7. RoChu and Asian Family Snow White

_(Author's note-Wow, aren't I productive? I was just going to plan out some stuff after the last chapter, then wait a little bit. Then I started thinking about this chapter and my ideas I had. Next thing you know, it's three am and I'm furiously writing the longest chapter yet. Obviously I don't own Snow White and the Seven Dwarves or Hetalia. All rights go to Hidekaz Himaruya and Disney. Also this version takes after Snow White and the Huntsman a little bit so I don't own that either. Thank you to Cone of Depression for being the best reviewer ever and to animefan1009 for favourting this story. Translations for things in other languages will be at the bottom. Please consider reviewing and enjoy!)_

 **Snow White**

 **Yao (China)=** **Snow White (He was king of his kingdom until it was invaded. He was then imprisoned and forced into servitude)**

 **Ivan (Russia)= Prince Charming (He is the prince of a nearby kingdom. Him and Yao would meet nightly behind the castle even when Yao was being held prisoner until Yao ran away after the whole Huntsman thing)**

 **Arthur (England)= The Evil Queen (He was the neighbouring king who invaded Yao's kingdom and imprisoned him, he's NOT Yao's stepmother)**

 **The Asian family are the dwarves but none of them have specific dwarves assigned to them. Also they're not dwarves, just a family of seven living together in the woods alone**

 **Kiku (Japan)**

 **Cheng (Macau) (I'm not to sure about this name, if it's widely inaccurate please tell me)**

 **Kasem (Thailand) (Same with this name. I looked it up and it seems fine but I don't want to be offensive)**

 **Yong Soo (South Korea)**

 **Mei (Taiwan)**

 **Leon (Hong Kong)**

 **Lin (Vietnam) (Once again, if it's really bad, please call me out)**

The forest was breathtaking. Each branch was void of any leaves but instead covered in a fragile layer of ice crystals. The snow on the ground was beautifully undisturbed, and the lack of animal life produced a delicate quiet Yao was careful not to break.

A gust of wind stung his already red cheeks and whipped his hair in his ponytail. The king snuggled deeper into his white fur coat borrowed from Kiku as he shivered against the bitter cold. The chill in the air seemed to worm its way beneath his skin. Still Yao continued past the sprawling trees back to the cottage, his basket weighed down with the vegetables he had foraged for that night's dinner.

As he walked Yao found himself thinking further about his current living arrangement. There was no doubt that he loved the large family that he had unofficially joined. Each member was something unique and added so much more to the group: Kiku's calm demeanor, Cheng's sense of peace and balance, Kasem's love for his family, Yong Soo's wild and free spirited nature, Mei's cheerful disposition, Leon's subtle wit and charm, and Lin's shy but headstrong personality. Each and every person Yao had been living with for the past several months had dug into his heart. He was indescribably fond of the group and hoped they thought similarly about him.

But as the snow crunched beneath his footsteps, the Chinese man could not help but yearn for something more, something from his past life. It definitely was not the people, after Arthur invaded he instructed all the staff of the castle to treat Yao like the wicked sorcerer wanted, a slave. And it was certainly not the environment itself, Arthur's takeover had landed the former king sleeping and spending all the time he was not cleaning or sneaking out at night in the dreary dungeon.

With a pang in his chest Yao realized what he was missing most dearly; a big muscular build, deep purple eyes, a long distinctive nose, and wavy pale blonde hair. It had been months but felt like a lifetime since Yao had seen the prince of the neighbouring kingdom, felt secure being held in Ivan's arms, or stolen one last kiss concealed by the nights they would sneak out to meet. With a grimace, the former ruler realized that Ivan had probably forgotten him by now, moved on from the dirty, thin, utterly forgettable servant who once had been king. The large prince most likely had stopped visiting the hidden door at the back of the castle where they would once meet.

Biting his lip to avoid thinking down his path of regret, Yao continued trudging through the thick snow banks to the cottage. A snapping branch set him on edge. Fear of Arthur arriving to finish the job of taking his life sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. His body tensed, ready to either fight or bolt.

A figure wearing a long, tan coat stepped out from between the frost covered trees. A familiar pink scarf fluttered in the wind. Yao was beyond shocked when Ivan's eyes met his and the tall Russian hesitantly asked, "Yao? Is that really you?"

The basket was dropped carelessly onto the frozen ground as Yao dashed towards his lover and jumped upwards into the taller man's arms. "Ivan! You're here! I can't believe you're here aru. How are you here?"

For a second Ivan cringed at Yao's embrace, causing the smaller man to hesitantly let go and look up questioningly at his lover. However after a moment Ivan reached forward and grasped Yao by the shoulders tightly. The Russian man gave a quick smile and reassured, "It's good to see you again Yao."

Yao sighed blissfully at at being back with Ivan again. He responded, "Same. It has been so long aru, but how did you find me?"

Awkwardly shuffling on his feet, Ivan's hands dropped as he explained, "Well, when I learnt the news about your death I was quite shocked, but when I heard that the Huntsman had been lying, and you were actually alive, I knew I had to find you again. I've been scouring the forest hoping to catch sight of you, and now I have you back in my grasp. Don't worry, this will never happen again."

The smaller king's felt light and joyous at Ivan's words. After so long living under the nightmarish rule of Arthur, his boyfriend was promising the long sought after freedom he had dreamed of.

Suddenly remembering why he was in the forest to begin with, Yao gasped and grabbed Ivan's hand. As he attempted to dragged his lover with him, he exclaimed, "Oh, I can't believe I almost forgot aru. I should introduce you to the others."

"Others?" Ivan asked doubtedly.

"Yeah, the ones who have been keeping me safe this whole time," the Asian man continued as he pulled Ivan with him, "There's Kiku, Mei, Leon, Yong Soo-"

Abruptly Ivan stopped moving forward, jolting Yao to a halt. When the king turned back, he saw his boyfriend shaking his head, something unknown in his eyes.

"Wait," Ivan commanded, "I will pay this household that has helped you a visit later, but first, I got you a gift." Reaching into his coat, the Russian man pulled out a perfectly red, shiny apple.

Yao laughed at the small present but grabbed it nonetheless. Ivan watched intently as the former ruler took a bite, the sweet juice flooding his mouth.

"Okay, it's a lovely gift, but I really want to show-" Yao began but quickly stopped when he noticed something wrong. The previously normal flavour of the apple had morphed into an intense bitterness. This flavour grew continuously until it was painful, a sharp burning sensation in his mouth.

Yao whimpered at the alarmingly fast-growing pain. "Ivan, what's...happening…I don't-" he groaned until speaking itself was too painful. The Chinese man dropped the deceiving apple on the ground. His stomach dropped and face paled when the piece of fruit morphed on the ground, shriveling up and turning into a rotting black with green mold.

The burning sensation spread down his throat, making it feel swollen and tender. Yao began throwing up everything in his stomach. The vomit was a dark red colour that left a metallic feeling in his mouth.

Looking up with blurry vision both from tears and pain, Yao expected to meet the concerned eyes of his lover. Instead he was face to face with the cold emerald eyes of Arthur, triumphantly smirking at his dying foe. Yao wanted to yell but all he could manage was a choken gasp.

Yao quickly realized he had fallen into a trap, but by then the fire was burning a path along his chest. Every breath seemed to ignite the heat, sending Yao to his knees as he desperately brought in too shallow wheezes for air. Arthur had begun pacing slowly around him like a vulture. Somewhere in the Asian king's mind was a plea to flee from the dangerous sorcerer, but his limbs were heavy and unresponsive. Every beat of his heart sent agonizing heat coursing through his veins. If he could have, Yao would have been screaming for mercy.

For a moment the forest tilted nauseatingly back and forth, causing Yao to cough up more vomit. Everything blurred, and when he next blinked Yao had ended up lying on his back, staring at the grey winter sky, his limbs spasming then going limp.

The former king could not feel the cold of the snow seeping into his back or he wind stinging his eyes. He barely noticed that Arthur had knelt next to him and had drawn a dagger from his cloak. All Yao knew was the burning of hell filling his blood and drowning him, his lungs bringing in barely any air.

"See how love weakens us." Arthur drawled, knife hovering Yao's chest. In the poisoned man's oxygen-deprived, pain-riddled mind, the voice sounded echoey and far away, in another world entirely. Arthur's face looked distantly but nonetheless horrifying.

The sorcerer continued, "You let your heart rule you decision making, and that is your mistake." Arthur laughed maliciously and sneered down with eyes colder than the winter's day.

"Don't worry. I'll cut the wretched thing out for you."

The dagger was raised in the air. Yao used all the control he had left of his body to force his eyes shut. He prayed the pain would fade quick in death and that one day he would get to see his loved ones again.

A clang of metal on metal registered in Yao's awareness. Cries of anger broke through the peaceful forest's quiet and the person at his side left, only to be replaced by others. Vaguely Yao heard Kiku chasing Arthur away, probably with that katana of his. The Chinese man wanted so badly to weep for joy, to hold his family close, and thank them forever for coming back for him, but he could not. The eternal flame in his body was slowly fading to a black numbness. The urge to float away with it and be free from all his suffering was strong.

Yao knew the others were there. Fingers pressed to his throat and Cheng called out, "His pulse is weak! He's fading quick!"

A hand rough and calloused like Kasem's held tight his own, and more hands, most likely Mei's, brushed his hair aside.

Soon Yao felt none of it. The darkness wrapped around his body like a thick, suffocating blanket. The king struggled desperately against it, trying to hold onto anything, Lin's quiet sobs, Yong Soo's yells for help, Leon's whispers to hold on.

But too soon Yao grew tired of fighting like he had for so long. He had lived his life in constant fear and was exhausted from it. The blackness was impenetrable as it burrowed deep into his thoughts. It dug out every memory Yao held dear: teaching Kiku how to use kanji, playing every card game that could be thought of with Cheng, helping Kasam care for his horse Toto, working with Yong Soo on drawings and comics, cooking meals with Mei, letting Leon teach him about fashion, trying and failing with the rest of the family to get Lin to smile, and hugging the true Ivan close as they said goodbye for the last time.

Yao finally felt at peace with his life, content with his relations and what he had done. Right before he allowed the void to completely take him away, free from all his suffering, the dying man heard a heartbroken scream that sounded like Kiku. It was quiet though, merely a faint whisper. There was no comfort for him as Yao drifted through nothing, away from the light.

* * *

Time was an unknown concept in the eternity where Yao resided. There was absolutely nothing as he floated through the endless void. Thoughts of his life tried to reach him, but a haze had settled around him that stopped his mind from functioning. There was nothing to see, feel, hear, or sense at all other then hellish sensory deprivation.

Eventually something changed. The dark had been so consistent up until then that the difference was immediate. A warmth was forming around Yao, something familiar that brought his environment into focus. The pressure of the void seemed to lighten. A force pushed him upwards and as he drifted things became clearer and sharper.

First was a pressure, a light but insistent kiss on his lips that Yao would be able to recognize anywhere as Ivan. Then it was muffled sounds, like they were underwater. Soon the voices were clearly distinguishable as members of his family. Realizing this would be his only chance to see his loved ones again, Yao fought back against the blackness, to be free of its tight hold. He struggled to remember the joys of life, the worth of his existence.

As he battled, the sensations around him, wind on his face, the smell of spring flowers in the air, pressure on his back from laying on a flat surface, and a hand stroking his cheek became clearer, urging him onwards. Cracks began forming in the previously perfect darkness, all originating from the one spot where he felt lips gently touching his own. Yao wanted so badly to see Ivan, the true Ivan one last time, to kiss back one last time, to be held and feel warm in his embrace one last time, so he focused all his efforts on that one spot, and eventually the void shattered into pieces.

Instantly Yao was back in his body. Everything rushed back to him, and he began coughing aggressively at the sudden need to breath again. Cries of surprise and excitement formed around him. Although his eyes felt heavy and stiff, he forced them open.

The first thing Yao saw was violet eyes slowly filling with tears, looking down at him in shock and amazement. To see such sincerity and emotion in them, there was no doubt in the king's mind that this was the real Ivan.

Sitting up stiffly on what looked like a glass coffin covered with flowers in a soft meadow, Yao wrapped his arms around the still frozen Ivan. The Chinese man buried his face in his boyfriend's shoulder and quietly sighed, "Hello Ivan."

Immediately Ivan was hugging Yao back in a tight but gentle embrace. The Russian man's body shook with both relieved laughter and sobs. "Hello to you too, moy podsolnukh*."

Ivan moved to rest his forehead against Yao's. His voice was full of emotion when he said, "You came back to me."

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Yao whispered, "I will always come back to you, xingan**."

"Um, this is really cute, but don't we get any love for saving your life?" Yong Soo demanded, before getting whacked on the back of the head by Mei.

Yao giggled, then made to stand up. Ivan was quick to offer his arm for support, which the smaller man was grateful for. His weak legs shook from lack of use but thankfully held steady.

When it was clear that Yao was not going to topple over, Yong Soo tackled the older man in a rib-cracking hug. He was soon joined by a still happy crying Kasem and a beaming Mei, who commented, "You had us so worried, Yao."

Suddenly Kasem darted out to pull Lin into the group hug, the girl blushing furiously but joining the embrace anyway. Cheng shook his head fondly at the group before sandwiching into the hug.

Leon stood resolutely watching until Yong Soo called out, "C'mon Leon, we know you missed him. You were crying the most at his funeral.

Red-faced, Leon made to protest, but seemed to think otherwise and reluctantly joined the others in hugging Yao. In a voice so quiet it was a strain to hear, he reassured, "We… I really did miss you teacher."

The only member of the family left out was Kiku. The Japanese man was biting his lip and seemed hesitant to join in. However when Yao looked up from the hug to stare expectantly at him, he wasted no time in completing the group hug.

Surrounded on all sides by his family's embrace, Yao felt complete. All around him was light shining from everyone's love, helping to keep the darkness at bay. To all in the group Yao poured his heart out. "Thank you guys. For taking me in, for being my family, for saving my life in more ways than one, just… thank you aru."

It was Kiku who responded for everyone, for the small Asian family from the cottage that all fit so perfectly together. "It is us that should be thanking you, brother."

 ***Moy podsolnukh= "my sunflower" in Russian**

 ****Xingan= Directly translates to "my heart and liver" in Mandarin. It's a term of endearment similar to "my heart and soul"**

 **I don't speak either of these languages. I got these from the internet so please correct me if I'm wrong**


End file.
